


Triptych

by lockheed_london



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockheed_london/pseuds/lockheed_london
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three key events in Douglas' relationship with Martin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed, so any comments re: typos are much appreciated.

_The story of how Douglas discovers Martin’s secret goes like this…_

The first time Douglas met Martin he naturally assumed that, like himself, Martin was an alpha. After all, anti-discrimination laws aside, omega pilots were exceedingly rare and Martin seemed so _desperate_ to have his authority recognised; it was textbook behaviour of an insecure alpha. It was only much later, after Martin’s secret was out, that Douglas had cause to remember that that was also behaviour typical of an omega fiercely trying to assert themselves.

The moment of discovery happened in the cafe of St Petersburg airport, in the aftermath of their emergency landing, when a shaken Martin got up to buy a coffee and carelessly left his passport lying on the table. He was obsessively protective of it and would never join in with Douglas’ and Arthur’s comparisons of who had the most stamps, citing a terrible passport photo, and Douglas pounced on it with no small amount of glee, flicking it open to the photo page and already imagining the teasing he was going to get out of this.

Martin’s face – younger, unguarded – stared up at him from the page, and Douglas frowned. The picture was perfectly fine, how very _Martin_ to worry over nothing, and he glanced over the page, noting Martin’s birthday, preparatory to flicking it shut. Before he did so, however, his attention was caught by the neat black ‘O’ that was typed where he’d expected to see an ‘A’.

He had barely had time to absorb the fact when Martin came rushing back to the table, hands empty of coffee. He had clearly realised that his passport wasn’t in his pocket, and his anxious expression changed to despair at the sight of Douglas in the act of closing his passport.

‘Martin…’ Douglas got to his feet, holding out Martin’s passport that Martin instantly snatched off him and stuffed deep in an inside pocket. ‘I–’

‘Why did you look?’ Martin’s voice shook and Douglas took a step towards him. ‘God, Douglas, why do you always, _always_ have to look, and poke and pry into things that are none of your fucking, _fucking_ business–’

‘Martin, please.’ Martin’s tone was getting louder and Douglas pitched his own voice low. ‘I’m sorry, truly I am. I just wanted to look at your picture, I swear. Please, will you sit down?’

He took another step towards Martin. Martin looked so shaken that Douglas wanted only to offer him a seat to pull himself together while Douglas went to fetch him a cup of tea, but Martin backed away from him.

‘Don’t touch me,’ he said, his voice frosty. ‘You’ve no right. Just because you know that–’

‘Hello chaps!’ Martin’s words stopped abruptly as a radio switched off mid-transmission, and Douglas turned as Arthur came up to them. ‘Goodness, that was exciting!’

He looked at their expressions, with Martin pale and shocked and Douglas’ hand resting on the table outstretched in his direction. ‘Is everything alright? It’s fine, Skip, you landed us and everything’s okay. Well, Gerti’s not okay but I’m sure she will be, once Mum’s spoken to the engineers.’

Arthur cocked his head towards Martin, Douglas noticed, mirroring his posture in an unconscious attempt at pacifying him. Could it be that even Arthur – on a subconscious level – had picked up on Martin’s gender while Douglas had missed it? The alpha attentiveness to omegas was so deep-rooted as to be expressed instinctively. But then Arthur always liked taking care of their passengers, whatever their gender, so perhaps not.

‘Fine,’ Douglas said, when Martin didn’t answer. ‘Martin was just saying how much he was looking forward to a coffee.’

He didn’t take his eyes off Martin’s face as he spoke and, as he’d hoped, Arthur’s response was immediate.

‘Oh, good idea! I’ll go and get them, shall I?’

‘That would be wonderful,’ said Douglas, without a trace of false sincerity. ‘We’ll wait here.’

He sat down at the table, hoping that Martin would follow suit as Arthur walked off, but Martin only dropped his hat on the table before leaving in the other direction, deaf to Douglas’ murmurs to wait, and Douglas pulled out his phone.

_I’m sorry_ , he sent to Martin’s number. _If you’d come back here then I’d tell you in person. Hand on heart, I never meant to pry._

A moment later, he opened a new message. _Well alright, I did. But I thought you were just being self-conscious about a bad photo._

And then: _Your photo is fine, by the way._

There was no reply to any of them and Douglas set his phone down with a sigh. What he’d intended as friendly teasing now seemed cruel and bullying, and he was about to text Martin again when Arthur arrived with hot drinks and, by impeccable timing, Martin arrived a bare second later. His face was pink and his hairline wet; he’d obviously been to splash cold water on his face and Douglas listened silently as Martin complained about the coffee while wrapping his hands around the tepid cup. He sounded stressed and petulant, rather than the commanding displeasure he was probably aiming for, and Douglas wanted to reach over to touch his wrist and tell him: _Calm down, you’ve nothing to fret about. Your secret’s safe with me._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **ETA:** now with added fanart by the wonderful and talented mxdp! See the lovely original here: http://mxdp.tumblr.com/post/47527608905/martin-douglas-cabin-pressure-there-is-this

_…the story of how Douglas finally manages to win Martin over goes like this…_

 

In the end, it never ended up being mentioned on that trip. Carolyn arrived five minutes later, before Douglas could get some time alone with Martin, with news of Gerti’s engine and the day went from bad to worse. Until right at the end, when Douglas managed to pull off the idea that would save MJN to fly another day; it was the first thing that had gone right in what had started to feel like far too long.

The upturn didn’t last long, though. Martin refused to address a single word to him on the flight home that wasn’t to do with flying Gerti; when Douglas began speaking, trying to make him listen by dint of simply talking at him, Martin snapped ‘For God’s sake, I’m exhausted and just want to get home, _must_ we talk about this now? Are you going to insist on getting your own way in this too?’

After that, Douglas had no heart to continue.

It took Martin a long time to resume the easy camaraderie that had started to grow between them. On their next flight Martin had turned to him, pale but determined, and asked ‘I need to know. Are you planning on telling Carolyn about… what you know? Because if you are then I’d rather you just did it straight away rather than holding it over me–’ and Douglas hadn’t been able to able to choke out his denial fast enough.

It took even longer for Martin to relax around him and to stop narrowing his eyes if Douglas tried to show some consideration for him. Personally Douglas thought that if he never again heard the words ‘Don’t _patronise_ me!’ then it would be just fine; of course it was typical that Martin – so fiercely independent – would see any conciliatory gesture as condescension sprung from Douglas’ new knowledge.

But Douglas held his tongue and exercised his patience with iron will. Thanks to his blunder that day, there was also the knowledge sitting between them that they were – at least theoretically – compatible with each other. Both single, both straight (or so Douglas assumed, since surely the news that he was dating an omega could only have helped Martin’s quest to be taken for an alpha), and both now aware of the other as a potential partner.

Douglas had been too long without an omega in his life, since Helena’s departure: such was his explanation when he found himself starting to notice the way Martin’s hair grew just long enough to curl over his collar, or the delicate bones of his wrists. He tried to distract himself with other omegas on various one-night stands, when they had trips that involved layovers, but more and more he found himself choosing instead to spend such evenings with Martin and Arthur, going out for dinner and playing word games and seeing the sights, such as they were. He started to bring in packs of aniseed sweets to the office, knowing full well that neither Carolyn nor Arthur liked them but that Martin adored them, and casually mentioned that he had the latest book by Martin’s favourite author, if Martin wanted to borrow it.

Douglas had never had to work so hard to win someone over in his life. Martin greeted each gesture with suspicion long before he would accept – muttering awkward thanks – and Douglas would have given up were it not for the occasional look that he caught Martin giving him. Slightly confused and almost… speculative.

It was a Christmas day in Maui that his patience was finally rewarded, though. For the second year running they had flown a client out to spend Christmas with friends living in Hawaii, and Carolyn had graciously given them Christmas Day and Boxing Day off, doubtless motivated by the fact that she also had come along on the trip. They had gone out for dinner on Christmas Eve and Carolyn had treated them to a bottle of wine which she and Martin ended up drinking, given Arthur’s and Douglas’ preferences for juice. Arthur had then insisted on cocktails, and Martin’s appalling alcohol tolerance meant that he was leaning heavily on Douglas as they all made their way back to the hotel.

Carolyn and Arthur disappeared off to their own rooms, looking none too steady themselves, and Douglas was left to escort Martin back to his room. At least Martin was a happy, giggly drunk, though, and Douglas steered him along the corridor and then propped him gently against the wall to go through his pockets for his keycard. Martin made various happy noises as Douglas patted him down and apparently felt the urge to reciprocate, running his hands over Douglas’ chest and sliding them flirtatiously inside his jacket. Douglas rolled his eyes. Just his bloody luck that Martin would pick _now_ to show an interest, when he couldn’t in all decency do anything to follow up on it.

‘You smell nice,’ Martin told him, patting Douglas’ waist vaguely. ‘It’s lovely.’

‘Thank you.’

Douglas checked Martin’s inside jacket pocket again, taking just a fraction longer than really necessary. Martin had gorgeously toned muscles on his chest and stomach thanks to his manual work, and Douglas would be the last person to claim that he was a saint when temptation presented itself.

‘Nice,’ Martin said again, swaying forward into Douglas’ personal space. ‘Your cologne. It’s… nice.’

Douglas rolled his eyes again at the scintillating commentary and dug his hand into Martin’s back pocket, causing Martin to yelp and jump forwards. His fingers – finally! – brushed the edge of a hard piece of plastic and he dug deeper to fish it out just as Martin turned his head and his mouth landed messily on Douglas’ jaw.

Douglas froze.

‘Martin,’ he began, but was cut off when Martin grabbed his shoulder, swayed, and pressed his mouth against Douglas’.

It wasn’t the best kiss Douglas had ever had. In fact it didn’t even make the top five: Martin’s aim was sloppy, his lips were chapped and he tasted of almost pure rum, making Douglas wince at the thought of the impending hangover. But Douglas was also achingly conscious that it was _Martin_ – warm and eager and apparently more than a little randy – and so he lingered to return the kiss but eventually made himself pull away.

‘You need to go to bed,’ he said, and Martin blinked owlishly before smiling.

‘Mmm.’ He reached for the key card in Douglas’ hand, fumbled, and dropped it. ‘Yes. Bed.’

‘Here.’ Douglas picked it up, biting the inside of his cheek to stop a smile: it would never do for Martin to think Douglas was laughing at him, even if his repetition of ‘Bed’ sounded less seductive and more sleepy. He opened the door, and manhandled Martin over to the bed. ‘Where are your pyjamas?’

Martin’s eyelids had started to sag heavily and he put up only minimal protest as Douglas shucked him out of his clothes down to his T-shirt and boxers, before tugging his pyjama bottoms up his legs and over his hips.

‘Here.’ Douglas got Martin into bed and under the covers, before placing the metal wastepaper bin by the bed. ‘I suspect you might need this in the night, although I hope you won’t.’

He fetched a large glass of water for the nightstand, and stood for a moment to look down at him as Martin rolled onto his side, drawing his knees up and tucking his hand between his cheek and the pillow. It made him look young and oddly innocent, and a swell of protectiveness made Douglas ask: ‘Are you going to be alright?’

Martin nodded vaguely.

‘Thank you, Douglas.’ He yawned, and murmured, ‘I like you, when you’re not being a sod. I _really_ like you.’

Douglas touched thoughtful fingertips to his mouth. ‘Do you now.’

Martin nodded again, slower this time. ‘I had such a crush on you when I joined MJ… MN…’ The acronym gave him some trouble, he stumbled a couple of variations before sighing, his train of thought clearly slipping away.

‘Had you?’ Douglas asked. ‘Do you not any more?’

It was ridiculous how stung his ego felt from the inconsistent ramblings of a drunk person, and Martin reached out blindly to catch hold of his hand. He drew it close and Douglas was forced to sit down on the bed or wrest his hand back. He sat.

‘No.’ Martin shook his head, but brought Douglas’ hand up to his face to rub his cheek along the back of it like an overgrown cat. ‘I told myself I’m not supposed to. It’s not prof… professional. And it’s stupid. You’re a lovely alpha, any omega would be lucky to have you. One day you’re going to settle down with someone, and it doesn’t matter that it’s not me. But…’ he nuzzled the backs of Douglas’ fingers, most of the way asleep, ‘…sometimes it’s nice to daydream.’

‘I see.’ Douglas gently took his hand and brushed Martin’s hair back off his forehead and then, because he’d always been a soft-hearted fool, he leaned down to brush a dry kiss across Martin’s temple.

‘Sleep well,’ he murmured. ‘I think you and I are going to be having a little talk in the morning.’

***

In reality, however, Douglas didn’t see Martin the next morning. He didn’t come down to breakfast with them – although only Douglas could be said to be _eating_ breakfast; Carolyn and Arthur merely cradled cups of coffee and nibbled toast – and he didn’t join them at the pool after Arthur went up to talk to him through his door.

After a couple of hours, Carolyn looked ready to snap at Arthur and even Douglas had to admit that Arthur’s observations on the other people lounging at the poolside were starting to grow a little wearing: he had been looking forward to finishing his book but concentration was rendered almost impossible.

Moreover, he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t eager to see Martin again after last night’s revelations, and so he put down his book and interrupted Arthur to say ‘Why don’t I go and see if Martin would like to join us?’

Carolyn shot him a look that, for her, was almost grateful, and Douglas pulled on his T-shirt and walked up to Martin’s room. He made a brief detour via the small hotel café – the coffee of which was unexpectedly good, for all that their accommodation was otherwise sub-standard – and when he tapped on Martin’s door he was balancing a pastry on top of a coffee cup in his other hand.

‘Who is it?’ Martin called.

‘It’s me.’ There was no reply, and Douglas added, ‘Can I come in?’

‘No!’

‘Martin…’ Douglas sighed, and tried another tack. ‘I brought you coffee and breakfast.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘I’d very much like to speak with you.’

‘There’s nothing to say. Go away!’

Douglas sighed again and leaned against the wall, getting comfortable.

‘I beg to differ. Look, I’m not leaving until I’ve spoken to you, and I can either do so in your room or out here in the corridor.’

There was a long silence, and just as Douglas was marshalling his words and preparing to speak the lock clicked and Martin opened the door a crack.

‘Hello,’ Douglas said.

Martin looked dreadful. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and his hair sticking out in all directions. It made Douglas want to touch it; he’d rarely seen it in any state other than perfectly groomed.

‘Can I come in?’ Douglas said, when Martin made no move to open the door wider, and Martin made a despairing noise and stepped back from the door.

‘Oh for God’s sake, _yes_ , before the whole corridor hears you.’

Douglas stepped inside, undeterred by the less than gracious welcome, and had a good look at Martin.

‘What happened to your pyjamas?’

Martin was swathed in a sheet, clearly grabbed off the bed, and Douglas tried very hard to ignore the tantalising glimpse of bare collarbone where it gaped at Martin’s throat.

‘I was sick in the night,’ Martin muttered in a small voice, not looking at Douglas. ‘I had to wash them in the bath.’

‘Ah.’ Douglas grimaced sympathetically, remembering past hangovers. ‘Look, just sit down for a moment.’

Martin walked over to the bed and perched on the edge of it, the trailing sheet making him look even shorter than he already was. The windows of his room were open but the curtains were shut, and Douglas went to tug them apart before sitting next to Martin.

‘Coffee? Pastry?’

Martin’s face flickered queasily but a hand snaked out from the folds of sheet to take the proffered cup, and Douglas set the paper bag containing the pastry at a diplomatic distance.

‘Look,’ he began, and stopped. It had seemed easy, last night, with Martin warm and loose-limbed and affectionate. But now Martin was looking at his knees, at the wall, anywhere but at Douglas, and Douglas hardy knew how to start.

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ Martin blurted, looking miserable.

‘No,’ Douglas said, ‘on the contrary, I–’

‘I’d just had too much to–’

‘Didn’t mind at all, _truly_ , actually I have to say–’

‘God, so _embarrassing_ , what–’

‘ _Martin_.’

Martin stopped finally, but looked down at his feet and muttered ‘You must think I’m–’

‘No,’ Douglas said firmly, trying to quash the self-disgust in Martin’s tone. ‘Whatever you’re thinking then no, I don’t think you’re pathetic, or an idiot, or whatever else that brain of yours has come up with. I don’t dislike you, and you’ve nothing to be ashamed of.’

Martin’s mouth twisted. ‘Last night. I was _pawing_ at you and you… God, you couldn’t get out of my room fast enough.’

‘You were _drunk_ ,’ Douglas said, exasperation creeping in despite his resolution to be patient. ‘My God, what sort of alpha do you take me for? Of course I wasn’t going to take you up on any of your suggestions.’

Martin scowled faintly at him, uncertain and wary, and Douglas sighed.

‘Drink your coffee,’ he said and, as Martin obeyed, he continued. ‘Look, Martin, all joking aside, I like you. Quite a lot, actually. I’ve been trying to work out whether I could ask you out for a drink; despite the fact I like you, you’ve been rather, well, rather distant with me ever since I found out that. Well. You know.’

‘Yes.’ Martin looked down at his feet again, the tips of his ears pinking.

‘I was wondering whether…’ Douglas coughed. It was utterly ridiculous that he should be so undone by _Martin_ , of all people, and he lifted his chin slightly. ‘Martin. Would you like to have dinner with me?’

Martin forgot his embarrassment enough to stare at him, longing and uncertainty warring on his face.

‘Not _now_ ,’ Douglas added quickly, ‘or even tomorrow, since we’ll be flying home, but at some point in the not-too-distant future. Would you?’

‘Yes.’ Martin fumbled with coffee and sheet; for a moment it seemed as though he was either going to end up with a lapful of hot coffee or lose his sheet, but he leaned down to put the coffee on the floor before reaching over to Douglas. Douglas caught Martin’s hand at once, folding his fingers around it and rubbing his thumb across Martin’s prominent knuckles. ‘Yes, that would be lovely.’

‘Good.’ Douglas smiled at him and an answering smile lit Martin’s face. He looked better already: the coffee had brought some colour to his cheeks and he looked shyly pleased rather than unhappy, and Douglas’ eyes traced the line of his throat down to where the folds of white cotton covered him. Would it be too forward to kiss him? They’d not even been on a proper date, after all, but then Martin had already kissed him last night, so perhaps…

His mind was decided by the way Martin looked at his mouth, the smile fading from his face to be replaced by a look of thoughtful focus. Douglas leaned in and tilted his head slightly, a subtle invitation, and Martin closed the distance between them to touch his mouth to Douglas’.

It was a butterfly kiss, soft and closed-mouthed and over almost as soon as it had begun, and Douglas couldn’t stop himself leaning forward to take Martin’s mouth again. Instead of pulling back Martin responded, leaning into him and tightening his grip on Douglas’ fingers when Douglas touched his tongue lightly against Martin’s lips, and Douglas shifted his grip to interlace their fingers and cupped Martin’s nape in his other hand. He coaxed Martin’s mouth open and tasted coffee and mint – clearly he’d been up earlier to brush his teeth – but Martin inhaled a shaky breath and Douglas drew back, licking his lips.

‘I…’ Martin seemed lost for words. ‘I should…’

‘Indeed.’ Douglas slid his fingers into the soft hair at Martin’s nape, watching Martin blink heavily. ‘Yes. You probably ought to get dressed at some point; you can’t spend the day wandering around in just your underpants and a sheet.’

‘I’m not wear–’ Martin cut himself off before he finished, flushing incriminatingly, and Douglas swallowed hard against the thought of tumbling Martin back into bed and unwrapping him from his sheet like an early Christmas present.

‘I’ll let you get dressed,’ Douglas said, reluctantly removing his hands from Martin, ‘and I’ll see you down by the pool in a while. Alright? We’ve saved you a space, and if Arthur doesn’t find someone else to talk to then I think Carolyn may actually kill him.’

Martin nodded and Douglas made his way to the door, taking a last glace back over his shoulder at Martin.

‘I’ll see you there,’ Martin said, standing and pulling his sheet more firmly around him, and gave a last smile before Douglas left, closing the door gently behind him.

Back down at the pool, Carolyn’s hopeful expression darkened when Douglas returned alone, but he murmured ‘He’s on his way,’ and she sank back into her chair with a thankful sigh.

The sunlight made Martin squint painfully, but he ducked his head and grinned at Douglas’ laconic welcome and Arthur’s rather more enthusiastic one. Arthur successfully persuaded him to come for a swim, with the happy result that when Martin stripped his T-shirt off Douglas was treated to a spectacular view of his chest and stomach, his nipples small and pink and his ribs faintly visible under his skin. It made Douglas long to pull him into bed and cover all that pale skin with his mouth; Martin flushed at Douglas’ glance, becoming very busy with folding his T-shirt and laying it over the back of the chair, and Douglas returned to his book, the memory of that kiss sitting quietly between them as a promise of things to come.


	3. Chapter 3

_…and the story of Martin’s first heat with Douglas goes like this..._

Over the course of the following months Douglas took Martin out on several dates, which Martin insisted on reciprocating. Douglas had tried once to protest that it wasn’t necessary, but Martin had given him such a look that Douglas had fallen silent and at least had the sense not to bring it up again. And if Martin’s dates tended more towards coffee and a walk in the park while Douglas’ were theatre and dinner, then Douglas would never have dreamt of mentioning it.

Such dates were of necessity fewer and further between than Douglas would have liked, due to Martin’s van job, but they progressed – slowly and hesitatingly – until one night several weeks later, when Martin shyly asked if he could spend the night at Douglas’ flat.

Martin in bed was _delightful_. Sex wasn’t new to him – Douglas had at least learnt that much from their few halting conversations on the subject – but he was so wonderfully responsive to Douglas’ touch that Douglas wanted to lock them both in his flat for a week, utterly enchanted with him. He agreed to anything Douglas suggested, and not just agree to be obliging but would also _enjoy_ it: fucking him made him reach up to clutch white-knuckled at the headboard, and Douglas had even convinced him to try it the other way around. Omegas tended not to be as generously endowed as alphas – although Martin had nothing to be embarrassed about – and so for Douglas the sensation was more like jerking himself off with two fingers inside him, but it was a joy to watch the way it made Martin go completely to _pieces_ at the physical sensations.

By far and away Martin’s favourite, though, was Douglas going down on him. Just the merest hint of it was enough to make Martin’s pale skin flush pink and make him wet his lips, and Douglas had developed something of a mild obsession with the feel of Martin’s cock hot and hard on his tongue, Martin’s thighs quivering either side of his head.

Douglas also found, after Martin started staying over increasingly often, that he preferred coffee for breakfast over tea, that he had a tendency to steal the covers, and that, charmingly, he was at his most physically affectionate in the soft, sleepy minutes just after waking up, when he would curl into Douglas with a gently contented noise.

But the most surprising discovery was easily the fact that Martin didn’t take heat suppressants. He was on birth control pills – that he was fanatical about taking at precisely the same time every day, even working around seven or eight hour time differences – but nothing more. Douglas raised this with him once, curious about this seemingly cavalier attitude in a life that was otherwise so strict and regimented and Martin shrugged.

‘I tried them for a bit but they made me feel sick,’ he said, lying naked among the crumpled bed sheets one evening, his throat and chest still mottled pink from sex. ‘I couldn’t get used to them. And when I stopped taking them I found that I don’t… you know.’ Astoundingly, given that they were both still sweaty and had mouths swollen from kisses, Martin blushed, as though they were discussing the subject in a prim and proper tea room. ‘Heat. I don’t… I don’t get them.’

Douglas frowned. ‘I thought all omegas did.’

‘Not me.’ Martin caught sight of Douglas’ expression and started to frown. ‘I hope that won’t be a problem.’

‘Of course not.’ Douglas ran a hand down Martin’s side, composing his face into something less severe. ‘I just wondered whether you’d thought of getting yourself tested to find out why.’

‘Not really. I have my medical every year but I’m always cleared.’

‘But it might not be a physical thing, it might be hormonal, or–’

‘Douglas.’ Now Martin looked annoyed. ‘Drop it. I’m perfectly healthy, I just haven’t had a heat in years, which is a state of affairs that I’ve no desire to change. Let it go. It’s not really any of your business anyway.’

And when Martin got that tone in his voice then arguing was futile, and so Douglas let the matter drop and brushed a kiss over one of Martin’s collarbones in mute apology.

Occasional spats aside, having Martin around was lovely. Douglas had enough self-awareness to know that he wasn’t cut out for the life of a single alpha and, while Martin could be surprisingly stubborn when the mood took him, on the whole he was fairly easy-going, certainly more so than Douglas would ever have guessed from seeing him only at work. And Martin also seemed to be happy with things: he was spending increasing amounts of time at Douglas’ flat, and the regular meals and sex meant he had a healthier look to him than previously.

Which was why, when Douglas casually suggested – several months later – that perhaps they might try sharing digs, he was completely unprepared for the speed and abruptness with which Martin turned him down. He’d barely finished processing what his ears had heard before Martin was up off the sofa, reaching for his shoes and muttering that he’d see Douglas on the next flight.

He’d not responded to any of Douglas’ calls or texts, and on their next trip he made it abundantly clear that the subject was not up for discussion. Stung, Douglas let it fall. He hadn’t made the offer on a _whim_ ; the way Martin reacted then anyone would think Douglas had been setting it up as a joke whereas in fact he’d been perfectly serious.

He took himself off on his own for dinner that night and didn’t see the others until breakfast the next morning, where Arthur was eating on his own.

‘Morning, Arthur.’ Martin was usually the first one down to breakfast out of all of them and so, with ill grace, Douglas asked ‘Where is he? It’s unlike our illustrious leader to be late.’

‘He said he’d be along in a moment when I knocked on his door.’ Arthur sipped his coffee and added: ‘Said he was feeling a bit ill.’

Douglas quashed his instinctive flare of concern. They could hardly go home if Martin wasn’t fit to fly, so it was only natural that he would want to go and see what the problem was, it certainly didn’t mean that he was _worried_ about the stubborn sod.

‘Morning chaps.’

Martin’s greeting lacked its usual emphasis, but Arthur beamed at him and pushed a chair out for him with the toe of his shoe.

‘Morning Skip! How’re you feeling?’

‘Fine.’

‘You don’t look fine,’ Douglas said bluntly. ‘In fact you look bloody awful.’

Martin gave him a sour look.

‘Thank you, Douglas.’

‘He’s right, Skip,’ Arthur said. ‘You do look a bit… odd.’

Martin was pale, and the dark circles under his eyes spoke of a sleepless night, but he glared at Arthur.

‘If you’re both finished, can we just settle our bill and go?’

‘ _I’m_ not finished.’ On another morning Douglas would have ordered coffee and breakfast to go, if Martin had come down looking so dreadful and in such a hurry to get underway, but a perverse imp made him made him say ‘I’ve not even started, in fact.’

‘Douglas…’

Douglas turned away to order from a nearby waiter, ignoring Martin’s glare, and then struck up a conversation with Arthur. He glimpsed Martin palming something from his pocket and swallowing it while Arthur was distracted; doubtless his birth control pill and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Martin would remember to take the bloody thing, never mind that he looked as though a gust of wind could knock him over.

Breakfast arrived, and Douglas relented.

‘Here.’ He wrapped his breakfast pastry up in a napkin and took a long swallow of coffee. ‘Let’s go. But at least drink this.’ He pushed this glass of orange juice across the table. ‘If you say you’re fit to fly then so be it – and God knows Carolyn won’t want to pay for us to spend another night here – but you look as though you’re ready to fall over.’

And he watched Martin slowly drain the glass as he finished his coffee.

By the time they got to the airport, however, Douglas’ momentary goodwill had worn away. Martin had chosen to ride in the back seat with Douglas, leaving Arthur to ride up front next to the driver, yet he’d ignored the hand that Douglas pointedly rested on the seat between them and flinched away when Douglas stretched an arm along the seat back to brush his fingers over Martin’s nape.

Yet on walking through the airport Martin couldn’t be close enough to him, and after the third time Douglas turned suddenly and collided with him then he exploded, snapping at Martin as he stumbled back to put some distance between them.

At the security gate Martin didn’t want to remove his jacket, arguing with the security officer and clutching it tighter around him until Douglas, exasperated, growled ‘ _Martin_. Stop being ridiculous, for God’s sake.’

Martin scowled at him but his grip on the front of his jacket loosened and Douglas stepped forward. Under the guise of sliding it off his shoulders he muttered ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’

Martin didn’t reply, but as he shrugged out of his jacket Douglas caught a faint scent of… something. It was tantalising and luscious and he immediately wanted to press his face to Martin’s neck and inhale; Martin had obviously stopped at one of the shops in the airport to try on some cologne and Douglas made a mental note to tell him later to choose a different one in future. Something more assertive and alpha, and less… appealing. Distracting.

But by the time they’d all gone through security – and Douglas had diplomatically smoothed over the incident with the security guard who was arguing that Martin’s odd behaviour gave her cause to detain him for a more thorough search – Douglas had just finished giving Arthur directions to the pilots’ lounge than he looked around and realised Martin was gone.

He would be damned if he was going to chase Martin down through the airport, especially when he was being so temperamental, and so Douglas made his own way to the pilots’ lounge, hoping for a peaceful hour with his book while Arthur roamed the duty-free shops.

On arrival, though, he found Martin already there. The room was laid out in an L-shape and Martin was at the far end, round the corner and out of sight of the door. He was alone, his bag on one of the seats and his jacket, hat and tie discarded on another, and pacing restlessly.

‘Oh.’ He halted when he heard Douglas’ footsteps behind him and turned, his look of alarm melting away when he saw it was Douglas. ‘Hello.’

‘Hello.’

Douglas supposed, ungraciously, that he couldn’t very well turn around and leave, and so he took off his jacket and sat in one of the vacant seats. He tried to concentrate on his book but, although Martin stopped pacing, he didn’t stop fidgeting and sighing. He had drifted over to the window overlooking the runways and his fingers beat a restless tattoo on the glass until Douglas said pointedly ‘Keen to get going, are you?’

‘We should have requested an earlier departure slot,’ Martin said, fretting at a loose thread on his shirt.

Douglas shrugged. ‘It’s not going to kill us to wait.’

He looked back at his book but Martin grew more and more agitated until Douglas slapped his book down on his knee and snapped ‘For God’s sake, if it means that much to you then bloody well go and ask for one! At least it’ll let me read my book in peace.’

‘I just want to go _home_!’ Martin flared at him.

‘I can see that,’ Douglas said, his tone as sharp as he could make it. ‘I’ve never known anyone fidget so much; God knows _why_ you’re so attached to that damp hovel you live in but clearly you are, since you’ll turn your nose up at a perfectly decent flat when it’s offered to you.’

It was a low blow, dragging their personal lives into work, and Douglas regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of his mouth. Martin went utterly still, and walked over to sit in one of the chairs.

‘I didn’t…’ He was pale, and Douglas bit his lip in regret. ‘When I said “home” I hadn’t meant my house. I meant…’

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ Martin wouldn’t look at him.

‘Please. Tell me.’

‘I’d meant… your flat. I’m sorry. It just sort of… came out.’

‘Oh Martin.’ Douglas pushed his book to one side and rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I’m sorry.’

Martin shook his head. ‘It’s fine. I know I’m annoying.’

‘You’re really not. Well alright, sometimes you are, but I like you anyway.’ Douglas held out a hand. ‘Look at me. Please.’

Martin still didn’t move.

‘Darling–’

‘We’re working.’ Martin’s reply was sharp, even if his tone was subdued, and Douglas got up and went to sit next to him.

‘I’m sorry.’ Douglas brushed his fingertips over the back of Martin’s hand, and Martin unclenched it and turned it palm up to Douglas. ‘I slept terribly last night, although I don’t know why I should have. It’s left me rather short-tempered this morning.’

Martin shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘It does.’ Martin had doubtless had his reasons for turning down Douglas’ offer, after all, and going on the offensive wouldn’t exactly inspire him to confide in Douglas. Besides, now that Douglas concentrated he found that his vague sense of irritation was directed more at everyone _but_ Martin, and he clasped their hands together, palm to palm, and added: ‘You still look peaky. What do you need?’

Martin sank back in his seat.

‘Just to get underway.’ Martin’s fingers picked at a fold of fabric on his trousers and Douglas sat back also, leaning their shoulders together companionably.

‘Incidentally…’ This close together the scent was back, and Douglas turned his head subtly to inhale, ‘have you been at the free samples in the duty-free? Because whatever cologne you’ve chosen suits you awfully well.’

‘No.’

‘Shampoo? Conditioner?’ Douglas gave up on subtlety and nuzzled the soft hair behind Martin’s ear; if they’d been in Douglas’ flat then he would have pulled Martin into his lap. ‘God knows I’ve nothing against your usual brands but this new one is delicious.’

‘Nothing. I’m still using the same stuff as I always have.’

It was only then that Douglas noticed how very still and tense Martin was, his hand squeezing Douglas’ uncomfortably tight. Douglas frowned. ‘You can’t be. You smell different, I’d swear it. In fact if I didn’t know better I’d say you smelled almost like–’ Martin’s hand clenched convulsively on his, and Douglas sat up and tried to look into Martin’s face. ‘Martin?’

Martin didn’t reply – he wouldn’t even look at Douglas – but Douglas’ mind ran quickly through the available evidence: Martin’s bad stomach last night, his lack of appetite at breakfast, and his desire to stay as close as possible to Douglas at security. And that _scent_ : usually there was no physical way to differentiate between alphas and omegas – Douglas had known enormous blokes who were omegas and slight, slender ones who turned out to be alphas – hence the requirement for gender to be noted on all official documentation, and hence also why Martin was able to pass as an alpha without any hormone supplements or other attempt at disguise. But when omegas entered their fertile period their pheromones changed, making them smell intensely attractive to alphas and triggering the alpha urge to protect and look after them and – eventually – mate with them.

Biological impulses were no excuse for overlooking common human decency, though, and so Douglas sat up and placed a gentle hand on Martin’s back.

‘I think you’re about to start heat,’ he said quietly. ‘Am I wrong?’

He squeezed Martin’s hand lightly, trying to get his attention, and Martin shook his head.

‘No.’

‘I see. Well, I suppose this explains why I couldn’t sleep last night – I must have picked it up on you on the outbound flight yesterday.’ Douglas did his best to sound calm when inside his mind was running in half a dozen different directions to account for what they needed to do. He patted Martin’s back, feeling his shoulder blades sharp through his shirt. ‘Alright then. You cancel the flight plan while I call Carolyn, and then we can find a hotel and–’

‘No.’ Martin turned to him, a stubborn set to his jaw that Douglas knew all too well. ‘We go ahead as planned.’

‘Martin.’

‘Douglas.’

Douglas looked at Martin’ mulish expression and tried again. ‘We can’t–’

‘Wrong. We not only can, we’re going to. I appreciate that this is appalling timing but I’ve got several hours before things start properly. The flight time is only three hours, which leaves me more than enough time to get back to Fitton and… deal with it.’

Martin looked away at the end, face flickering uncertainly. They’d never really discussed the idea of spending a heat together, Douglas having grown too complacent at Martin’s lack of them and Martin being disinclined to initiate any kind of conversation about them. It wasn’t at all a given that they would spend it together; some couples took a long time before becoming comfortable enough to share it.

But that was a conversation that could wait, at least for a moment, and Douglas tried again: ‘Carolyn would be annoyed at the delay, yes, but it’s hardly the end of the world–’

‘ _Douglas_.’ Now there was steel in Martin’s tone, and he glared at Douglas, pulling his hand away and shrugging Douglas’ hand off his shoulder blades as he sat up. ‘I’m making a command decision and saying that I’m fit to fly, especially on a leg where my first officer – who is in perfect health – is scheduled to operate, and all I have to do is sit there. So as your captain, I’m telling you that we’re going, and there’s no discussion.’ He sagged a little, making Douglas want to reach for him again. ‘And as your…’ he faltered, but continued: ‘Look, please don’t make me fight you on this. Please.’

Douglas was silent for a long moment, but at last said grudgingly: ‘Understood. But Martin,’ he reached for Martin’s hand again, and Martin looked at him, ‘please tell me if you need something.’

‘Alright.’ Martin leaned back in his seat again with a sigh. ‘And thank you. I…’ he chewed at the corner of his mouth, ‘I hadn’t thought you’d be so... well, you’d make me argue more about it.’

Even after all this time Martin hadn’t grown used to the idea that alphas wanted nothing more than to soothe an upset omega, whatever it involved giving them, and Douglas searched fruitlessly for words before settling on ‘Come here,’ as he draped an arm around Martin’s shoulders and encouraged Martin to rest against him.

Martin tensed. ‘We’re–’

‘Just for a moment. We’re alone, and if anyone comes in then we’ll hear them long before they see us.’

And Martin leaned into him with another sigh, as Douglas rubbed Martin’s shoulder and rested his cheek on top of Martin’s head.

‘You won’t be hungry, I imagine, but would you like some water? I’ve got a small bottle in my bag.’

‘In a minute.’ Martin made no move to let Douglas get up. ‘I just don’t understand why it’s happening _now_ ; I’ve gone for years without one.’

‘Well…’ Douglas stroked his thumb idly over Martin’s knuckles. ‘If I had to guess then I’d say that, thanks to my cooking, you’re now being maintained in a style rather above your previous level of borderline starvation, and have gained some much-needed weight. Consequently I imagine that your body has decided that you’re now healthy enough for your cycles to start.’

‘I was fine before.’

‘Ye-es,’ Douglas drawled, ‘if by “fine” you include being able to count your ribs and having alarmingly prominent hipbones.’

‘Oh hush.’ Martin elbowed him, but it was half-hearted and Douglas glanced down at him and saw that he’d shut his eyes.

Douglas said nothing, only rubbed Martin’s arm and murmured ‘Sleep if you want. I’ll wake you in time to leave. But before you do, there’s something you ought to decide before your hormones start to cloud your judgement: where would you like to spend the next few days?’

Douglas tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible, despite the strong urge to drag Martin back to his flat and lock the door behind them. He didn’t want Martin to feel pressured into something he wasn’t ready for.

‘Well, I…’ Martin’s voice trailed off and he fidgeted with a piece of loose skin by his thumbnail. ‘What would you think if I maybe… I mean, only if you didn’t mind… could I spend it with you?’

‘Of course you can,’ Douglas said instantly, not wanting Martin to doubt even for a moment that his presence was desired. ‘I would be nothing but pleased if you did. However you should know that…’

He paused, choosing his words carefully. ‘If you just… don’t want to be in your shared house for it, then I would happily arrange a hotel room for you. A decent one, where the staff would respect a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door. Or if you’d rather have someone close by just in case, then I have a spare room that can be yours for as long as you need it.’

By this point Martin was looking at him in surprise. ‘Won’t it be a problem if I’m in your spare room, though?’

‘Not at all. You could just… get on with things… but I’d be on hand if anything went wrong.’

Martin looked unconvinced and Douglas nudged him gently. ‘What is it?’

‘I just heard that it can be… difficult… for some alphas to be around an omega in heat.’

‘Well, difficult, yes, but not impossible.’ Martin still looked furtive, as though there was something he wasn’t saying, and Douglas – acting on a suspicion – said: ‘For God’s sake, credit me with _some_ self-control. I’m not an animal; I’m not going to break in and force myself on you.’

Revulsion had made Douglas speak more sharply than he’d intended, but as Martin flushed incriminatingly and hurriedly murmured ‘No, no, of course you wouldn’t,’ Douglas knew he’d hit the mark.

‘I still would like to be with you.’ Martin looked at him. ‘If that’s okay?’

‘Of course it is.’ Douglas lifted their joined hands at once to kiss Martin’s knuckles, a confusing mix of lust and tenderness tangling in his chest, before leaning down to brush his lips over the corner of Martin’s mouth. ‘I’d be delighted.’

‘Thank you.’ Martin smiled at him – the first smile that Douglas had seen from him since before Douglas’ ill-fated proposal of moving in together – and rested his head against Douglas’ shoulder.

‘Sleep,’ Douglas said, suddenly feeling terribly protective. ‘You must be tired.’

***

Martin did sleep, or at least dozed heavily. Arthur came to find them after half an hour; Douglas could have snapped at him for waking Martin but instead he merely eased himself away from Martin at the first sound of footsteps, and by the time Arthur tracked them down then Martin was dozing innocently against the wall, with Douglas a respectable distance away. Douglas then proceeded to engage Arthur in conversation, successfully diverting his attention from Martin while he blinked groggily awake.

The flight back was more or less uneventful, or as much as it could be when the miles seemed to crawl by and Douglas frequently had to bite his tongue against the urge to ask Martin how he was feeling.

It got a lot more difficult when, with an hour still left to go, Martin pressed a hand low against his stomach and took a deep breath through his nose.

‘Alright?’ Douglas asked. Martin had been subtle about it, but all Douglas’ nerves felt on edge.

‘Fine.’ Martin took another breath, and said shortly: ‘Stomach cramp.’

‘Oh Christ.’ Abdominal cramps meant that Martin’s body was starting to produce lubrication, which meant that they had only a couple more hours to go before things started in earnest.

Douglas opened his mouth to offer… he didn’t know what, some meaningless platitude or reassurance, but Martin glared at him and Douglas changed it to ‘Nearly there.’

‘Hmm.’

Martin could read the instrument panel just as well as Douglas, he knew very well how much flight time they had left and he merely rested his head back against the seat and shut his eyes. He didn’t voice a word of complaint for the rest of the flight, despite the physical discomfort he must have been in, and Douglas’ admiration for him grew even as his composure – usually so unshakeable – frayed a little more with each careful, controlled inhale from Martin, each flex of his fingers where they were pressed to his stomach.

Douglas had never been so glad to touch down in Fitton, and he turned to take a good look at Martin. He hadn’t trusted himself to do more than glance at him during the flight, and now he saw that Martin was starting to look hot and bothered. His cheeks were flushed tellingly, his shirt rumpled where he’d been clutching at it and Douglas said ‘Let’s go home.’

‘After paperwork.’

‘What?’

Martin’s lips were dry; he licked them and said ‘After the post-flight paperwork.’

It took Douglas a moment to find his voice. ‘Martin, surely _now_ , of all times, it can wait until–’

‘No!’ Martin’s voice was sharp and he glared at Douglas. ‘It’s regulations. And when were you proposing to do it? Are you going to leave me to deal with things tomorrow while you nip back down to the airfield?’

Martin had a point but that didn’t mean Douglas was prepared to accept it graciously, and he snarled ‘For fuck’s sake,’ as he gathered his things together with brisk, angry movements, but the instant that Martin’s mouth flattened into a taut, unhappy line, he relented.

‘Oh God, don’t look like that. Here, come here.’ He held out a hand to Martin and, when he stood, pulled him close for a hug. ‘Sorry. You’re right. But just don’t complain that I’m doing it too quickly.’

Martin didn’t. He sat at his desk in the otherwise empty portacabin, eyes closed and breaths carefully steady, while Douglas scribbled the necessary information in the forms and scrawled his signature at the bottom.

‘Done,’ he declared, dropping his pen and standing. ‘Come on. Home.’

Martin didn’t respond and Douglas walked over to his chair. This close, he saw that Martin had grown more flushed than ever, his thighs splayed on the seat and the folds of his jacket carefully concealing his lap.

‘Martin.’

Douglas touched his shoulder and Martin opened his eyes to look up at him.

‘Yes,’ he agreed.

He took the hand that Douglas held out to him but Douglas shifted until he was gripping Martin’s forearm before tugging him up. He didn’t step back, so when Martin stumbled to his feet he was all but pressed against Douglas and Douglas wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him.

‘Oh.’ Martin grabbed fistfuls of Douglas’ shirt and pressed his face into Douglas’ throat, breathing him in, and Douglas sank his fingers into the hair at Martin’s nape and tugged his head back to tilt his face up for a kiss.

Perhaps he was imagining things but Douglas could almost swear he could _feel_ the difference in Martin: Martin kissed him as though he were starving for it, it was hot and wet and had a hint of teeth in it and Douglas forgot himself enough to reach down and grab his arse, shoving a knee between Martin’s.

‘Don’t,’ Martin gasped, breaking away. ‘Don’t tease.’

But he grabbed Douglas’ hips and shoved forward to grind against Douglas’ thigh, and Douglas gripped his arse to encourage him, helping him find a rhythm until Martin stilled himself, shuddering even as his hands pushed up under Douglas’ jacket to seize fistfuls of his shirt.

‘I want to go _home_ ,’ he said, sounding almost despairing. ‘Please, not here, let’s go home.’

‘Of course.’ Douglas kissed Martin’s temple, noting the warmth of his skin, and stepped back.

Whether Martin needed the extra reassurance or whether he was merely humouring Douglas, Martin not only tolerated Douglas’ hand on the small of his back on the way to the car, but actually seemed to lean into it. Once inside Martin opened his jacket and loosened his tie with a sigh of relief, but when he unfastened the top button of his shirt Douglas cleared his throat.

‘Please don’t,’ he said, trying not to let arousal make him sound gruff. ‘You’re already quite distracting enough, and even though I live close to the airfield I’d like to drive home without any accidents.’

‘Sorry.’ Martin sounded breathless, and Douglas merely gritted his teeth and started the car. As he drove he mentally ran through the contents of his fridge and realised, with mounting dismay, that they were terribly sparse. Douglas had planned to spend his day off shopping, rather than staying at home looking after Martin, and at last he was forced to say ‘Martin.’

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Martin glance at him.

‘I need to make a stop, I’m afraid. Just a quick one–’ Martin hadn’t said anything but Douglas imagined that he must be fairly desperate to get home, ‘–I’ve only got tinned food in the house. I don’t even have milk for tea or coffee.’

‘That’s fine.’

Martin’s tone was almost perfectly composed, but Douglas glanced over and saw that his hands were white-knuckled on the edges of his seat.

‘I’m sorry–’ Douglas began helplessly.

‘Just–’ Martin swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering closed, ‘just make it quick.’

Douglas did his best. He double-parked outside the corner shop and ran inside to stride through the aisles, grabbing milk and orange juice and vegetables. He didn’t wait for his change before seizing his bag of shopping and running back outside, and in the car he found Martin still clutching the edges of the seat, head tipped back against the headrest. He’d started to rock his hips, obviously feeling the need for some sort of stimulation, and Douglas swore when he saw him.

Martin’s eyes blinked open and he groaned a little at the sight of Douglas, face alight with pleading.

‘Hurry,’ he gasped. ‘Oh God, hurry, _please_.’

‘I am,’ Douglas promised fervently, shoving the keys into the ignition and glancing over his shoulder as he reversed out. ‘I promise you, I am.’

His flat was only two minutes away and he drove as carefully as he could, notwithstanding the point where Martin moaned ‘ _Douglas_ ,’ sounding almost in pain, and Douglas looked over to see Martin’s back arch, thighs splaying wide, as he thrust a hand down between his legs to grind against it.

‘Christ,’ Douglas muttered, resolutely looking back at the road. ‘If we crash then this is going to be a bloody stupid reason for an accident.’

At his flat, he looped the bag of shopping over his wrist and used both hands to open Martin’s door and tug him out.

‘Our bags,’ Martin said, dazed, but Douglas pushed him towards the door.

‘I’ll come back for them later. Come on!’

As soon as the door of the flat had shut behind them Douglas turned to Martin, setting the bag of shopping down on the floor so he could wrap his arms around Martin and pull him close.

‘Easy now,’ he breathed, pressing his face to Martin’s hair and inhaling as he’d wanted to do for the past several hours. ‘I’ve got you. What do you need?’

‘Get this off.’ Martin’s hand pushed between them, fingers already dancing over his shirt buttons. ‘Take it off me, _now_ –’

Douglas instantly started working at Martin’s shirt. Many omegas experienced varying degrees of dermal hypersensitivity in a heat, and drawing apart the two loosened halves of Martin’s shirt revealed that his collarbones and chest were flushed. It might be a reaction to the fabric or it might be the sex flush creeping down from his face and throat; either way Douglas tugged Martin out of his shirt and jacket before running his hands down Martin’s bare back.

‘Come on, let’s go to bed.’

He kissed Martin firmly before nudging him in the direction of the bedroom, and Martin stumbled along. In the bedroom, Douglas didn’t even bother to close the curtains before kneeling to remove Martin’s shoes: there were no other buildings with a direct line of sight into his, even if he wanted to fight free of Martin’s grasp.

Martin worked quickly at his own trousers, and shoved them off before climbing into bed.

‘Fuck,’ he panted, twisting against the sheets. ‘Oh fuck, this is unbearable.’

One hand snaked down to his groin but, instead of touching his cock, Martin canted his hips up and shoved it between his thighs. He moaned a little as he touched himself, and Douglas almost broke the zip on his trousers as he cursed and yanked at them.

Naked, he quickly got into bed and knelt between Martin’s thighs, running his hands up from his knees to his hips and encouraging Martin to spread his legs wider. Martin did so, and Douglas leaned down to kiss him approvingly.

‘That’s it,’ he said, nibbling Martin’s lower lip. ‘Try to relax, just let me take care of you.’

Outside of heat Martin would bristle at such a suggestion, but now he only lifted his legs to wrap them around Douglas’ waist and moaned against his mouth. Douglas flattened a hand over Martin’s nipple, and at Martin’s little arch and gasp he moved down to cover it with his mouth. They were flushed and swollen, given Martin’s state, and at Douglas’ light touch Martin wound his fingers into Douglas’ hair and groaned. Douglas was gentle as he knew how to be but even so Martin’s fingers tightened and dragged his head away after a couple of minutes.

‘Fuck me,’ Martin panted, digging his heels into the small of Douglas’ back. ‘Now, come _on_ , just do it already.’

Douglas sat back on his heels, coaxing Martin’s legs to loosen from around his waist, and slid a hand between Martin’s thighs. Some omegas didn’t produce quite enough natural lubrication for penetration, at least at the start of a heat, and Douglas’ fingers brushed Martin’s hole gently and found that he was still mostly dry. Martin whimpered at the touch, his back arching, and Douglas shushed him as he fumbled the lubricant out of the bedside table. And, as an afterthought, a condom: he had seen Martin take his tablet over breakfast but now wasn’t the time to ask whether Martin had thrown up within the following few hours, and better safe than sorry. Martin hooked his hands behind his knees and ground down against Douglas’ fingers as Douglas pushed a dollop of lubricant up inside him, and groaned when Douglas took his hand away.

‘ _Please_.’

‘Alright, yes, give me a moment.’ Douglas fumbled with the condom with slippery fingers, biting his lip as he rolled it onto himself, but at last he was leaning forward on one arm and reaching down to hold himself steady with the other. He kissed Martin slowly, reassuringly, as he pushed blindly against him; there was a moment of breathless fumbling and then something gave and he sank inside.

‘Oh God.’ Martin sounded almost shocked, and Douglas kissed him and held still, giving Martin time to adjust. But Martin didn’t appear to want time; he kicked a heel against Douglas’ thigh and ordered ‘More, God, _more_ , why have you stopped?’

‘Maybe _I_ need a moment,’ Douglas gritted out. Martin was perfect around him: no uncomfortable tightness, just a silky hot squeeze around his cock and, when he kissed Martin’s throat, that _smell_ , the irresistible scent of an omega in heat.

He started to move, rocking forward and pulling back, and Martin grabbed his shoulder and moaned loudly. Douglas kissed him, working a hand between Martin’s head and the pillow, cupping his head as he rocked inside Martin and drank his noises straight out of his mouth. Martin’s cock was rubbing against Douglas’ stomach, leaving slippery little streaks of precome, and Douglas grunted ‘Do you need a hand on you?’

Martin shook his head, panting frantically. An omega’s first orgasm during heat tended to be fairly intense, particularly one who had progressed as far as Martin had without a touch, and Douglas hissed slightly between his teeth as Martin’s nails raked down his spine.

‘Oh…’ Martin sobbed, his eyes tightly shut. ‘Oh… oh…’

Everything was so wet between their stomachs that Douglas half-wondered if Martin had come already, save that he was mouthing and nipping at Douglas’ throat, mashing his mouth against Douglas’ ear to gasp ‘Harder.’

Douglas obeyed, and was rewarded by Martin becoming even louder. Douglas could feel himself starting to sweat, perspiration prickling at his temples, but he gulped for breath and strained to fuck Martin, because Martin was reaching up and gripping his own hair, tugging at it slightly, distracting himself with pain in the midst of his pleasure.

‘Don’t do that,’ Douglas panted, and he reached to undo Martin’s grip and pushed his fingers between Martin’s. ‘Hold onto me instead, if you need to grip something.’

Martin’s grip tightened crushingly on his hand; Douglas almost said something to make him ease up but the next instant he felt a tell-tale squeeze around his cock and Martin’s cock twitched sharply against his stomach, warmth sliding messily between them as Martin ground his mouth against Douglas’ shoulder in a vain bid to smother his wails. Douglas carried on fucking him while Martin came, each thrust forcing another pulse, another cry from Martin, and only relented when Martin’s noises turned to sobbing gasps for air. He stilled, nuzzling Martin’s hair and murmuring soothing nonsense to him, until Martin tilted his face up for a kiss and squeezed Douglas’ sides with his knees.

‘Go on,’ he slurred. ‘Keep going.’

Douglas kissed him and complied. Every omega was different, of course, but generally in a heat then several climaxes during one session was usual, and sure enough it wasn’t long before Martin was gripping his hand again, his breath coming quick and shallow. His other hand was at Douglas’ nape, holding him close so Martin could kiss and bite at his mouth, and when Martin groaned ‘I’m close again,’ Douglas kissed him bruisingly hard.

‘Me too,’ he growled. His rhythm faltered, turning jerky and erratic; his breath grew short as pleasure pulled into sharp focus in his cock, but just as Martin groaned out his second orgasm his fingers tightened sharply in Douglas’ hair, pulling hard enough to make Douglas’ eyes water and quashing the rising pleasure.

‘ _Gently_ ,’ he said, reaching up hastily to unwind Martin’s fingers from his hair, and kissing the inside of Martin’s wrist as Martin panted shivery apologies in the aftermath.

‘Come on then.’ Martin let go of Douglas’ hand and raised both arms above his head, stretching with a luxuriant little groan and letting his arms fall limp onto the pillow. ‘It’s your turn now. And I want to watch.’

He curled his hands around the bed frame, visibly bracing himself, and Douglas groaned helplessly as he pushed into Martin, closing his eyes. It didn’t take him long to get back to where he’d been before, and he opened his eyes at the feeling of Martin squirming his hand down between them.

‘Up for one more?’ Douglas panted.

Martin smiled a slow, sensual smile.

‘Mmm,’ he said, curling a hand around his cock. ‘But also…’

And he reached around to slide wet fingers between Douglas’ buttocks to push against his hole.

‘Martin!’ Douglas gasped. It felt like the most obscene, shocking thing ever, and he chewed his lip as Martin rubbed his fingers back and forth.

‘I want you to come,’ he murmured, sweetly devilish. ‘You’re so hard, and so ready for it. Come on.’ He sped up his strokes on his cock, his fingers growing a little rougher as he pushed the tip of one inside. Martin caught his breath. ‘Oh, I’m getting close again. Come on, do it.’

Douglas thrust into Martin, groaning at the feel of Martin’s finger breaching him gently, and this time when Martin cried out in pleasure Douglas added his own noise to it, folding forwards to press his face against Martin’s throat as he came. His knot didn’t swell – no surprise, this early in heat – but he gasped and shuddered as he came, and when he lifted his head it was to see a look of almost beatific pleasure on Martin’s face. His eyes were shut, his head tipped back, but he looked so unguardedly _happy_ that Douglas stroked his thumb tenderly along one of Martin’s eyebrows and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Martin sighed happily, letting his legs slide down to rest on the bed and easing his finger out of Douglas and Douglas reached down to hold the condom steady as he started to slip out of him. Martin shivered a little at the movement, and Douglas leaned back, getting up onto his knees to reach over and drop it in the bin before lying next to Martin.

Martin’s hair was starting to curl at his temples where it was wet with sweat, and Douglas brushed the back of a finger against it as he studied Martin. Martin was completely still, only the rise and fall of his chest breaking the line of his body, and the faint quiver of his ribcage that showed where his heart was still pounding. He had wiped his hands roughly on his stomach and thighs and stretched them back up to rest on the pillow above his head, fingers loosely curled; Douglas lay on his side, propped his head up on one hand, and reached up with the other to trace a gentle, ticklish line across one of Martin’s exposed palms.

Sure enough, Martin huffed a laugh and his hand closed about Douglas’ finger, trapping it.

‘Hello,’ Martin murmured, and Douglas tore his attention away from the delicate blue tracery of veins in Martin’s wrists to look down into his face.

‘’Hello.’ Martin’s eyes were heavy-lidded but his gaze was sharp, looking _at_ Douglas rather than through him, and Douglas gently freed his hand to touch his fingers to Martin’s flushed cheek. ‘How’re you doing?’

In reply Martin stretched again, flexing his fingers and wriggling his toes, and went limp, sighing blissfully.

‘Good,’ he said, and Douglas rested a hand on Martin’s stomach, avoiding the mess. In a moment he’d have to go and get a warm, damp cloth to clean him up, but for the moment he couldn’t tear himself away from Martin’s side.

‘ _So_ good.’ Martin blinked up at Douglas, his eyes very blue. ‘That was just what I needed.’

Douglas leaned down to kiss Martin’s cheek. ‘I’m glad.’

His fingers drew distracted loops and curlicues on Martin’s stomach and chest, until he accidentally brushed the edge of Martin’s nipple and Martin gasped and grabbed at Douglas’ hand.

‘Careful.’ Martin drew Douglas’ hand away to rest on his sternum. ‘Sensitive.’

‘Sorry.’ Douglas leaned in for another kiss; Martin’s lips followed his in a silent demand for more kisses when he would have drawn back, and Douglas gave in to him willingly. He stopped only when Martin gave a tiny shiver, and leaned up to look at him. Gooseflesh had risen on Martin’s forearms, and now that the initial frenzy of heat had passed – albeit temporarily – Douglas had to concede that the flat was a little cold. He tugged the duvet up to Martin’s knees, and paused at the mess on Martin’s stomach and inner thighs.

‘I ought to get a cloth,’ Douglas said, trailing a fingertip over a prominent hipbone. ‘I’ve made a mess of you.’

But he didn’t move and Martin only smiled, a little shy and pleased with himself. ‘I liked you making a mess of me.’

Martin’s mouth was still damp and flushed from kisses; his lips parted when Douglas ran a finger over his bottom lip and his tongue flickered out to touch Douglas’ fingertip.

‘Tease,’ Douglas muttered, taking his finger away and kissing him again.

Martin was starting to look heavy-eyed and drowsy, and Douglas steeled himself to get up and see to things. It was pure alpha instinct to want to stay at an omega’s side throughout their heat; Douglas had been entirely sincere in his offer of his spare room, but God it would have been difficult to act as though all his senses weren’t hyperaware of Martin’s presence. Much better to have Martin next to him, naked and limp and gorgeous, and Douglas’ heart swelled with a sudden, helpless surge of affection for him. No wonder that, centuries ago, people had considered an alpha and an omega to be pair-bonded after their first heat together. Right now he couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere but at Martin’s side, ready to see to his slightest wish.

Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and smiling at Martin’s small, discontented noise.

In the bathroom Douglas wet a washcloth under the hot tap and, as an afterthought, grabbed a towel off the rail on his way back in. Martin’s eyes were closed but he smiled at the warm, damp sweeps of the cloth across his stomach and groin, and as Douglas pushed it between his thighs he let his knees fall open, spreading his legs wider and tilting his hips up, and moaned softly in his throat as Douglas wiped away the mess of lubricant and Martin’s own fluid.

‘Steady,’ Douglas said roughly. ‘If you keep on like that then our bags will never make it out of the car.’

Martin only grinned, his eyes still closed, and Douglas tapped his thigh and said ‘Lift your hips off the bed.’

Martin complied, and Douglas quickly pushed the towel beneath him, folded double, and guided Martin back down.

‘Oh.’

Douglas looked up. Martin’s eyes were open, and instead of his look of blissful contentment he had an uncertain fold between his eyebrows that Douglas instantly reached up to smooth with his thumb.

‘Don’t look like that. What’s wrong?’

‘I’m…’ Martin reached down to catch a fold of the towel between fingers and thumb. ‘Sorry I… make a mess. I hadn’t thought of it but… your sheets, they’re–’

‘Shut up,’ Douglas said, leaning down to kiss him firmly. ‘No, really, Martin. Shut absolutely up, before I call you something impolite. I,’ he punctuated his words with another kiss, ‘couldn’t give,’ kiss, ‘a _fuck_ about the sheets. Do you hear me?’

‘I–’

‘Why on earth would I complain about you being in heat?’ He brushed a hand against the tender skin at the inside of Martin’s knee and Martin spread his legs, biting his lip. ‘Do you have even the _slightest_ idea of just how excruciatingly arousing it is to have you here? Knowing that you’re lying here, in heat, and slowly getting wetter and wetter until you’re positively _soaking_?’

Martin made a faint noise as Douglas slid his hand a few inches higher.

‘God, it drives me mad,’ Douglas said breathlessly, rubbing a thumb absently over Martin’s skin. ‘Truly. In fact next time you’re ready I think I want both of your knees over my shoulders so I can eat you out. Can I?’

‘Yes,’ Martin whispered. His eyes were shut tight, his cheeks scarlet, and he grabbed a handful of Douglas’ hair, tipping his face up blindly for a kiss. ‘Yes, please, that sounds wonderful.’

Douglas kissed him, but resisted the temptation for more. Things were only going to get more intense from this point onwards and his current reluctance to leave Martin’s side was nothing compared to what it would be later. So best to get things sorted now.

‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ he said, with a last kiss to Martin’s mouth. ‘Gorgeous creature.’

And was treated to a shy, brilliant smile.

In reality it was more than a moment by the time Douglas had cleaned himself up and dressed enough to retrieve their bags from the car without scandalising the neighbours. He left them on the kitchen table while he unpacked the shopping, and then took them through to the bedroom to find that Martin – despite his sleepy look earlier – was still awake.

‘I thought you’d be out cold,’ Douglas said, opening the wardrobe and starting to unpack. ‘Haven’t I tired you out enough?’

Martin rolled into his side to watch Douglas, the covers pulled up to his chest and his cheek pillowed on one hand. ‘Mmm. It feels strange, sleeping on my own. I’ve…’ He paused and, at Douglas’ querying look, he added ‘Oh, you may as well know: I’ve not been sleeping well this past week. I can’t bear to be fighting with you.’

‘I’ve missed you too.’ Douglas failed to stop the foolish smile at the corner of his mouth. ‘I’ll make this quick, then.’

He folded and shook out and hung, throwing some things vaguely in the direction of his laundry basket, but even so it wasn’t until he stripped down and slid back into bed that Martin gave a contented sigh, his eyes sliding shut. He rolled towards Douglas, throwing an arm over his chest, and Douglas wrapped an arm around him.

‘Your feet are cold,’ Martin complained half-heartedly, even as he pushed a knee between Douglas’.

‘Sleep.’ Douglas kissed Martin’s hair. ‘They’ll be warm by the time you wake up.’

***

Looking back, Douglas remembered it as most enjoyable few days he’d had in a long time, with Martin being charmingly easy to please. He was by turns endearingly shy and then fiercely demanding, on one occasion pushing Douglas onto his back and climbing on top of him to ride his cock until the sheets stuck to Douglas’ back with sweat and Martin’s noises indicated that his world had narrowed to the aching pleasure of Douglas inside him. Douglas made good on his promise to go down on Martin, bracing the backs of his thighs up and eating him out until Martin was squirming in pleasure, his hands fisted in the sheets, and then at other times Martin was content to lie beside him, drowsing while Douglas read or spoke idly to him or watched a film.

But, early in the morning of the fourth day, Martin awoke with sore muscles and a ravening appetite, and Douglas resigned himself to it being over. He wasn’t entirely sorry – he’d kept up as best he could but he wasn’t as young as he used to be – but there was something about having Martin in heat. It wasn’t just physical, although he had no complaints there; rather the way that Martin would let Douglas take care of him as he never did when he was himself.

‘God.’ Martin stretched, groaning a little. ‘What have you done to me?’ Douglas only smiled and splayed a hand on Martin’s flat stomach, now slightly concave after a few days of only minimal rations. ‘I suppose this means I need to make a doctor’s appointment to sort myself out with suppressants, then.’

Douglas felt his smile fade, a pang of loss spearing through him at the thought that he’d not get the opportunity to experience this with Martin again, but he kept his voice neutral and said ‘Of course, if that’s what you want.’

‘I mean…’ Martin’s hands covered his and Douglas looked over to find him watching Douglas curiously. ‘That would be the sensible thing to do.’

Douglas shrugged.

‘It’s entirely up to you,’ he said gently. ‘Lots of omegas have successful careers without going on suppressants, but no-one’s going to tell you what to do.’ He snorted. ‘Least of all me; I know how stubborn you are when you put your mind to it. If this is what you want to do, then go ahead.’

Martin made a thoughtful noise, and Douglas decided to press his luck.

‘About… what I said the other week,’ he began, and clasped Martin’s hand when Martin tensed. ‘No, don’t pull away, please. Just let me say this. I’m sorry if it upset you, I truly hadn’t intended to. But I’m not sure why you… I mean, if you’re not ready then that’s fine, I can wait. If you’ll never want to then I can’t pretend I won’t be disappointed, but we’ll work something out. If you want to, that is.’

Martin looked slightly uncertain and Douglas had a momentary flash of doubt. Now that Martin’s heat was past then it was entirely possible that he’d resume his previous stance of wanting to call it a day, there was certainly no guarantee that–

‘You really wouldn’t mind?’ Martin blurted. ‘If I wanted to wait. For a bit. I’ve never moved in with anyone before, and it feels like… well. It’s a big thing.’

‘Well, it is,’ Douglas said, feeling his way forward with Martin’s grip on his hand and the furrow between Martin’s brows as a guide. ‘Which is why it’s best to wait to be sure before you do it.’

He paused, as a suspicion formed in his mind. ‘Oh _Martin_. Did you think that just because you said no then that was automatically the end?’

‘I… well…’

‘For God’s sake, you’re allowed to be hesitant without it being the end of the world,’ Douglas said, grumbling at him even as he rolled over to slide an arm under Martin’s neck and pull him close. ‘You idiot.’

Martin turned on his side to nuzzle against Douglas’ shoulder and forbore to answer. Instead he took Douglas’ free hand between both of his, thumbs caressing Douglas’ palm idly, and neatly changed the subject: ‘But about the suppressants. What would your preference be?’

Douglas sighed, kissing Martin’s hair.

‘I want you to be happy,’ he said, hoping he didn’t sound too disappointed. ‘Truly. If you want to take them, then you should. I’m sure they’ve even developed some by now that won’t make you ill like the other ones did.

Martin smiled at him suddenly, a blinding, beautiful smile.

‘Well,’ he said, lifting Douglas’ hand to press a kiss into the palm. ‘I was thinking that perhaps I could try… not taking them.’

‘Really?’ Douglas’ heart lifted.

‘Really. Just… to see how it goes.’

Martin glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, face still turned into Douglas’ palm, and Douglas rolled onto his back and gathered Martin to him.

‘In a spirit of scientific enquiry,’ he suggested, hands wandering down the sweat-tacky expanse of Martin’s back, and Martin laughed, as the sunlight streamed in through the curtains and the world began to wake up.

 

**End**


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